


Haze

by Magnetism_bind



Series: The Kissing!Verse [3]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blue Eyes, Come Eating, Comeplay, EVERYBODY HAS PRETTY EYES DAMNIT, Fucking, Green Eyes, M/M, Masturbation, Post-Coital Cuddling, Public Arousal, Rimming, Teasing, angry masturbation, faint attempts at manipulation, marking kink, unexpected tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 07:18:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11031309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: Haze: (noun) vagueness or obscurity, as of the mind or perception; confused or vague thoughts, feelings, etc.:First recorded in 1670-80, haze is from the Middle French word haser to irritate, annoy...After their night together, Silver wants Flint more than ever. God help him, Flint wants Silver too. He just doesn't want to admit it.





	Haze

 Silver touches the back of his neck, closing his eyes. He can still feel Flint’s mouth on him, the heat of his lips, the scrape of his teeth, and the pressure of his tongue. Christ, he’s hard again just from remembering that, his cock pressing hotly against his breeches.

His entire body has the most pleasurable ache after their fucking the previous night. He wants to march straight back to Flint and demand that he do that again and again and _again_ until Silver can’t think anymore.

He’s never known such dizzying desire. Is it just Flint? Is it men? Silver’s not entirely sure. It can’t be just men in general, he’s never wanted someone like this. It doesn’t really matter anyway. Silver just knows he wants more; he wants Flint.

The marks on his neck are sore and tender. He can’t stop touching them. His hair covers most of them, the ones along the back of his neck at least. The one on the side of his throat is a little harder to hide, but it’s not his fault. It was Flint’s mouth that placed it there, and so Silver lets the mark show.

*  *  *

“Jesus, who the fuck did that to you?” Dooley nods at the mark. “You look like you’ve been mauled by a fucking squid.”

Silver laughs it off even as the man prods him for more information. He catches sight of Flint watching him across the galley, his eyes narrow and cool. Does he think Silver’s flirting with Dooley? Is that jealousy or frustration in his eyes? Silver can’t tell, but he wants to know desperately. Would Flint be jealous if Silver had someone else? No one else compares with Flint. That’s the whole fucking problem. No one else is going to be remotely satisfying, even the thought of it makes Silver groan with frustration.

He goes to his hammock early that night and wraps his hand around his cock with one needy hand. He presses his other hand against his neck, seeking out the marks with his fingertips. He gasps silently as memories flood him. _Flint’s teeth on him, Flint’s cock in him._ _Flint’s mouth. Flint._

Silver bites the back of his hand to muffle his cry when he comes and then lies there, panting, as the hammock swings lazily back and forth, swaying with his motion.

He’s so fucked, it’s not even funny.

*  *  *

The next day Flint catches sight of him on deck. Silver has his head turned away from him, and Flint can see the shadow of a mark on his skin. His throat tightens. _He_ did that. Flint remembers every suck of his mouth on Silver’s skin, how Silver tasted, the sea-salt sweat of him. He thinks of taking Silver from behind, licking the sweat from his back. And he _would_ make Silver sweat with every fucking thrust of his cock.

Flint groans silently.

He goes down to his cabin and locks the door. It’s the middle of the fucking afternoon and he’s hard as a rock because of that goddamn man and the way he stands with his lithe hips, the way he looks with Flint’s marks on him.

Flint undoes his breeches with savage angry fingers. Spitting on his palm, he thrusts into his fist hard and rough, imagining it’s Silver. Silver’s hand on him, light and wanting just as he was, Silver’s ass taking him deeper and deeper, Silver’s mouth pleasing and urging.

Silver’s goddamn mouth. He can’t forget it, no matter how hard he tries. The way Silver has with words, how he makes Flint _want_ things that he has put so far beyond his reach for so long. He can’t forget Silver talking about the house he’d buy either, how he wants simple things like a fucking bathtub. Thinking of that just reminds Flint how he doesn’t know the man behind the charming smile at all.

If he kissed Silver, really truly fucking kissed him, would truths spill from his lips? Would he able to lie still with Flint’s tongue on his? Would he even be able to comprehend anything once Flint had tasted him?

 *  *  *

Flint dreams of kissing Silver in his sleep, waking half hard and fully irritated. Getting himself off is no satisfaction. His body craves Silver’s, drawn to it like a candle in the dark.

 *  *  *

The next morning Flint slides sideways over to where Silver’s standing at the railing in the first light of dawn. The sea is soft in this early hour, all blue and gray and pink.

Silver eyes him, but doesn’t speak. He keeps his gaze firmly on the waves. The ship rocks, the waves lapping faintly against the hull. Silver half turns his head as the sea spray hits his curls.

Flint sucks in a breath. Sunlight dances off Silver’s sea-drenched curls. Silver gives a little shake of his head, sending droplets everywhere. A few drops land on Flint’s hand as he rests it on the railing. He stares at his hand, wondering what they would taste like if he licked them. Salt of the sea, or would they taste of Silver?

Silver glances at him then. “Something you want, Captain?”

“Let me see.” Flint’s voice is soft.

Slowly Silver tilts his head so Flint can brush the curls away from the back of his neck and see the marks he’s left there. They’re so dark and red, flushed against the tan of his skin. Flint gazes at them wordlessly, pressing his fingertips into that tender flesh.

Silver shivers, unable to stop himself.

Flint rubs his thumb gently along the most vivid mark, watching as Silver’s eyelids fall half-closed, his lashes dark and delicate against the stillness of his face.

If Flint looked down he’d see Silver’s arousal for himself. He _knows_ Silver’s wanting, he knows what Silver is hoping for and he can’t help wondering how much he can push this, what will Silver do.

It’s not fair. He’s not a good man. He hasn’t been a good man for years. But Flint had known that already. _Flint_ had never pretended to be a good man, but here with Silver, he wonders what it would be like to try. He presses his thumb harder and Silver drops his head faintly, as a small groan escapes his lips.

Flint’s free hand curves into a fist to keep himself from reaching for Silver, pressing him up against the railing and taking him here and now on the deck.

He allows himself one look between Silver’s legs and there it is. Proof. The head pressing wantonly against Silver’s canvas breeches. Flint can make out nearly the entire length of his cock, so eager, so ready for his touch.

He looks up to find Silver’s eyes on him. There’s a vulnerable desperation in those orbs, blue as the ocean, blue as the sky, blue as the endless melding horizon between the two that Flint sees when he closes his eyes at night.

“Please.” Silver whispers.

Flint pulls his hand away. “Pull yourself together, Mr. Silver. I believe you have duties in the galley to attend to.”

He stalks off without another look, not wanting to see the expression in Silver’s eyes as he walks away.

*  *  *

 _Jesus fucking christ._ Silver stares after Flint. The captain is fucking with him, just for the hell of it.

What does Flint expect him to do? Just keep running off to his hammock every time Silver gets a fucking hard-on from him? To just jerk off and then get back to his so-called duty, while Flint gets to swan around and look at him with those goddamn sea-green eyes of his?

Silver’s hands tighten on the railing. Well, two can play at that game and really, Flint should have known better than to ever start such a match. Because John Silver doesn’t give up, not when he knows he can win.

*  *  *

Silver waits until late that evening when the next watch has started and most of the men have gone below. Then he takes the bottle of wine that he won in a game of cards and had been saving for a night that really warranted wine.

This, Silver decides, is such a night.

He takes two tin cups from the galley and the bottle and goes to Flint’s cabin. This time he doesn’t knock. He simply pushes the door open and oh, it’s worth it.

Flint’s in the process of undressing. His coat’s already off and slung over the back of the chair. He’s removed his boots and has just started pulling his shirt free of his breeches when Silver enters the cabin.

Flint stares at him incredulously. “Get the fuck out.”

“Alternatively.” Silver says, “I could stay and we could share this?” He holds up the bottle. “An apology of sorts.”

“And just what are you apologizing for?” Flint sneers. “Being a constant shit?”

Silver just smiles, the half-lazy, half-contemplative smile that generally means trouble, if Flint stops to think about it.

“Something like that.” Silver says. He moves forward to set the bottle and cups on the desk. “May I?”

Flint sighs, but shrugs in vague acquiescence. He pulls his shirt down again, which Silver finds disappointing, but he keeps that thought to himself for now. He occupies himself with pouring out a cup of wine for both of them.

He offers one to Flint who takes it and sinks into the chair behind his desk as though to distance himself from Silver. “What are we drinking to then?”

“Let’s say…” Silver pauses just long enough to make sure that Flint’s focus is solely on him and then he licks his lips slowly as though lost in concentration. “To new beginnings.”

“New beginnings?” Flint repeats with a sardonic twist to his lips.

“Well, I understand that since we shared that night together,” Silver continues, ignoring the faint scoffing noise Flint makes, “that things have grown a little strained between us. And I wanted to assure you that I bear you no ill will.”

At that Flint’s brow knits together in confusion. “Beg pardon?”

“I should have known that asking you for a repeat performance would be unacceptable.” Silver studies the rim of his cup. “I know that casual sexual encounters are not your thing, and I should have considered that more thoroughly, before I suggested it.”

Now Flint looks even more confused. “Have you suggested it?”

“I know that it’s too much to ask.” Silver leans on the nearest corner of the desk, looking at him. “Too much pressure on…” his gaze dances over Flint’s groin and away again. “certain weary aspects of your character.”

Flint just stares at him. “Hang on, are you implying that I won’t fuck you again because it’s too strenuous.”

“I know how these things can be when a man gets to be a certain age.” Silver says gently, as though he’s trying not to offend Flint’s dignity. “There’s no shame in it.”

He pauses and then when Flint says nothing, he goes a step further. “I’m sure I can find someone else more enthusiastic and less worn out by the ordeals of the day.”

It’s a shot in the dark, playing at possible jealousy, but a calculated move all the same.

Flint jerks his head up again to stare at him. And then something clicks in his expression and he simply starts laughing. “Are you seriously trying to get me to fuck you again by suggesting I need to prove something? Are you trying to make me jealous?”

Silver sighs and downs the rest of his wine. “It was worth a shot.”

“Are you shitting me?” Flint just laughs harder. “ _That_ was your plan?”

“Oh come on.” Silver protests. “You won’t fuck me, what was I going to do?”

“Jerk off in your hammock like everyone else.” Flint’s grin is all teeth. He swallows his wine in a long gulp.

Silver sighs and reaches for the bottle again at the same time that Flint does, their fingers sliding against each other to meet in a slow acceptance of desire.

*  *  *

Flint gazes down at the bottle, the sight of their fingers touching and then up at Silver, uncertainty in his eyes. 

Silver leans closer, his knee pressing against Flint’s thigh. “Tell me you don’t want me again.” He whispers. “Tell me you don’t lie awake in your hammock, thinking of how it felt fucking me.”

“Jesus.” Flint groans, and then gets a hold of himself. “Sounds like you’re the one thinking about that, not me.” He pours another round for each of them and sits back in his chair.

“I admit it.” Silver says openly. “It was good, damn it.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Flint rolls his eyes. “What makes you think I’d do you again?”

If he’s cruel enough, Silver will give up. Surely he will stop this.

“Because I’m the only one willing to let you fuck them on this ship.” Silver shrugs his shoulders. “Unless you have a similar arrangement with another member of the crew that I’m unaware of.” His tone makes it very clear how unlikely that it is.

“We don’t _have_ an arrangement.” Flint points out.

“But we could.” Silver leans back on the desk again. “Admit it. You want me.”

“So what if I do?” Flint says harshly. What difference does it make if he wants Silver?

“So have me then?” Silver spreads his hands in an inviting gesture.

“Are you so easily taken?”

“I know you think I’m….” Silver breaks off. “Look, I just…I want to kiss you, but I also just _want_ you. I want something to hold on to while we’re aboard this goddamn ship. It drives me mad at times. And I need _something_.” Silver shakes his head. “It must wear on you. The waiting, the wanting. The exhaustion.”

“You get used to it.” Flint takes a sip of wine.

“But wouldn’t it be better to have something that could take your mind off it altogether?” Silver asks in all seriousness. 

Flint looks up at him, really looks at him, and finds those blue eyes gazing back at him, that sensuous, clever mouth. He knows how Silver looks under those clothes, and goddamnit, he does want him.

His hand grips the cup. What harm would it do if he allowed this? As long as he maintained some level of control, a line against surrendering completely.

“I’m still not going to kiss you.” Flint begins and Silver, honest to god, rolls his eyes and sighs.

“I know.” He sighs. “Believe me, that I know.”

Flint takes another drink of wine, mulling over his options here. He wants to teach Silver a lesson, and just like that, he knows exactly what he’s going to do to the curly-haired rascal in front of him.

Silver slides further over on the desk so he’s right in front of Flint’s legs. “Look, I don’t expect you to kiss me. I do, however, want you to fuck me.”

“Is that so?” Flint murmurs, arrested by the sight of Silver saying those words, looking at him with such open frustration. He remembers how Silver looked earlier that morning on the deck with the sunlight glinting off his curls and he sucks in a slow, shallow breath. “All right.”

Surprise shines briefly in Silver’s eyes, like he didn’t expect Flint to actually agree, and then a sweet slow delight takes its place, which makes Flint’s gut churn uncomfortably. It’s just a fuck, for god’s sakes.

*  *  *

The hammock won’t work for what Flint has in mind. He takes a few blankets from the store cupboard and spreads them out upon the floor by the window seat. He takes his time arranging them, knowing that Silver is watching him.

Silver’s still sitting on the desk, his hands cupped around his wine, watching him curiously. Flint smooths the pile of blankets until it’s at least something better than lying on the floor, even if it’s not as good as a bed.

He jerks his head at Silver. “Come over here and bring the bottle.”

Silver does, hips swaying as he walks.

Flint simply takes the bottle from him and tips it into his cup. “Get your clothes off.”

He sits back against the window seat, watching as Silver obeys. Flint takes a sip, wetting his lips. This time he wants to see all of Silver. He’s pictured it enough to have a good idea, but now he wants the real thing.

Silver discards his clothes piece by piece, not teasingly as Flint had half expected, until he’s standing there, naked.

He raises an eyebrow at Flint and reaches again for his wine. “Now what?”

Christ, his bare ass as he leans towards the desk. Flint keeps his groan to himself. _You have to know how good that was._ He hears Silver’s near accusatory words once more.

He leans his head back, gazing at Silver with a critical eye until Silver flushes faintly, but he doesn’t make an attempt to cover himself, for which Flint gives him credit.

Silver is in a word, completely beautiful. From the dark curls that frame his face, to his slim muscled chest and slender hips, all the way down to his perfect backside and his cock. _God,_ his cock.

Flint could go to his knees right now, bury his face in the dark curls at Silver’s groin, taking him deep in his mouth and sucking him softly until Silver whimpers for release, until he fucking begs Flint for that.

Another night perhaps.

Flint takes another slow sip of wine, almost enjoying dragging this out as Silver sighs impatiently.

“Lie down on your stomach.” Flint nods at the blankets beside him.

Silver does immediately, his backside wiggling faintly as he anticipates Flint’s cock.

That’s not what he’s getting today.

Flint takes another swallow of wine and sets his cup aside before moving between Silver’s legs. He nudges Silver's thighs further apart, baring his hole completely.

There’s a faint hitch in Silver’s breath as his body is exposed so intimately.

Flint parts his cheeks with his hands, smoothing over Silver’s perfectly rounded globes, squeezing them, caressing them, filling his palms with them. They’re paler than the rest of him due to being hidden away from the sun. He thinks of Silver sunbathing nude and perfect, letting his body tan all over. The sight of that would be exquisite.

Flint smooths his thumb right over Silver’s hole, feeling the tight pucker, the heat, ready and eager.

He leans down to press his mouth against Silver’s rim.

Silver tenses faintly at the first intrusion of his tongue and then he lets out a slow heartfelt groan that vibrates all the way through to Flint’s bones. Silver bites down on his lower lip, pushing back against Flint’s mouth out of instinct.

Flit grins against him, licking at him gently, before sucking down hard.

Silver gasps. “Fuck, Flint. How did you…how can you…” He’s babbling and he can’t stop himself as Flint’s beard scrapes over his backside.

Silver’s eyelids flutter and he bites down hard again on the embarrassing sounds coming out of his mouth, as he pushes back urgently against the heat of Flint’s mouth. If he had _known_ he would have begged Flint to do this ages ago to him. But then he thinks of Flint’s tongue working that magic in his mouth, and he groans again, reaching between his legs to take hold of his cock.

Flint pulls off. “Stop that.”

“But,” Silver whimpers. He’s practically humping the blankets with his need, and surely Flint can’t deny him this when he’s the one fucking Silver with his tongue and making him mad with lust?

“Move your hands away.” Flint commands. It’s a tone that’s meant not to be fucked with. “ _Now._ ”

Silver groans, but he puts his hands above his head, gripping at the blankets. He pants and sweats, arching his ass upward, hungry for Flint’s consumption.

“Up on your knees.” Flint rasps and Silver just surges further upward, obeying him without thought or hesitation. Later the memory of that bothers him faintly, making him flush. But he wants this, and Flint’s giving it to him, why would he hesitate?

Flint’s thumbs smooth over the globes of Silver’s ass, spreading them even wider. He sucks tightly at the pinked rim, making Silver pant even more. His head dips low between his shoulders as Flint tongue fucks him, his cock aching between his thighs, hard and sensitive.

Flint swivels his tongue inside and Silver buries his face in the blankets, barely able to speak with all the sensations overwhelming him. He’s going to come with Flint’s tongue in his ass, and Silver doesn’t know if that’s more embarrassing than wanting a kiss so desperately from him or not.

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” Flint murmurs over his ass. Silver’s reply is mostly incoherent, but from the way he pushes upward, offering himself to Flint, it’s undeniable.

He kneels there, panting on his forearms, ass in the air as he waits.

Flint gets his breeches open hurriedly. He slicks his cock  and thrusts right inside Silver’s waiting hole. It’s so fucking easy as after he’s worked Silver open with his mouth, and yet Silver’s still so tight around him; it’s glorious.

He gives a sharp, deep thrust inside Silver, a reminder of who’s inside him. But Silver just moans at the feel of his cock and pushes himself back, impaling himself even harder on Flint. Flint tugs him upright, balancing Silver against his chest as he thrusts upward into his heat. He wraps one hand around Silver’s cock, stroking it from base to tip with one rough motion. Silver lets out a choked off groan and spurts over his hand.

Flint leans in, sucking at his neck as Silver clenches around him, spasming slightly until Flint comes slowly inside him. He grazes over one of the marks he left before and Silver gasps wordlessly.

Flint brings up his hand covered in Silver’s seed and holds it in front of him. Silver opens his mouth, sucking his own spend from Flint’s fingers and palm. Each glide of Silver’s tongue over his skin sends a shiver through Flint’s body.

Slowly, Flint releases him, letting Silver down on the makeshift bed before lying down himself. Silver lies there dazed and spent.

Throughout most of that, he hadn’t been able to really speak. But now…his clarity is returning and as much as he’d just like to lie here in Flint’s cabin, he can’t help voicing the thought at the forefront of his mind.

“You’ll stick your tongue in my ass, but you won’t kiss me?”

Flint groans in irritation. “This again?”

“Sorry…I’m just curious.” Silver mutters. He finds it very curious to be honest. And he can’t help wondering if Flint’s being stubborn at this point just for the sake of being stubborn.

“If you’re tired of our _arrangement_ ,” Flint begins, sticking an arm behind his head.

“It’s not that and you know it.” Silver says peevishly. He sighs and rolls over on his side, back to Flint. “Nevermind.” He got what he wanted, he supposes. Flint’s fucked him again. So why does he feel only half satisfied?

Flint looks over at his turned back wanting to explain, but not having the words to make Silver understand what this means to him, how he didn’t allow himself so much for so long, and how much it costs him to let himself now.

“I’m sorry.” Flint says at last, staring at the roof above their heads. The words are quiet and half brusque, but they’re spoken all the same.

Silver glances over his shoulder at him. He hesitates and then he rolls back over to face Flint. Tentatively he places a hand on Flint’s stomach. Flint just waits silently. When he doesn’t object, Silver slides closer and rests his head even more tentatively on Flint’s shoulder, nearly nestled in the crook of his arm and shoulder, but still waiting for something in return.

It’s Flint’s turn to hesitate, and then just as slowly, almost as though he might scare Silver off, he lowers his arm around him. At once Silver exhales softly and then closes his eyes.

Flint just stays still, watching him, gazing at the methodical rise and fall of Silver’s chest, the curve of his hip, the stillness of his cock between his thighs. Christ, is he already asleep?

“Don’t for one second think you’re actually sleeping here.’ Flint murmurs into his hair.

Silver just murmurs something back in response, turning so his face is buried in Flint’s shirt.

Flint thinks he’ll lie there awake forever. But the next thing he knows, it’s already morning and Silver’s still there, nestled up against him, a sleepy heap of curls and naked skin. Flint just gazes down at him, wondering how this has come to pass. How the fuck has he let this happen?

 


End file.
